Who Was Making Those Sounds?

Christmas brings to mind cherished childhood memories. For my brother and I it was a magical time, finding the right tree after a half hour of our mom scrutinizing what seemed to be every tree; baking cookies for guests, though I must say we ate more than our fair share; popping popcorn to string as garland; making chains and homemade decorations; decorating the tree always brought lots of laughter and joy as we tried to find just the right place to put each ornament.  Tinsel was not our strong point.
On Christmas Eve we would watch holiday specials such as: “Frosty,” “Rudolph” and “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.”  The Grinch however was our favorite.  When they were finished it was off to bed.
My fondest memory was when he was 4 and I was 7.  After the TV shows we begged and pleaded to stay up late to no avail. 
Now on Christmas Eve from the time he was 2 until 5 we slept in my bed so we could try to stay up and catch Santa. In truth it was so our parents knew where we were.
This night was just like the others. Cookies and milk were placed out for Santa and off to bed we went.  We tried to stay up but fell asleep about 20 minutes later.  
At about 2 a.m., per my Mickey Mouse alarm clock, we were both awakened by a sound on our roof.  We quickly jumped up and looked out the bedroom window. The only thing we could see was falling snow.
Inside not a sound was heard. In a whisper my brother asked if was Santa. I replied, “It must be.”
Giddy with anticipation we bounced up and down giggling. Suddenly we looked at each other and dove under the covers. 
We had remembered our mother saying to us, “Santa won’t visit if you’re up,” just before she turned out the light. We pretended to be asleep for a time trying not to fidget, though it seemed like hours. 
Finally my brother asked if he had gone.  I said, “I hope so!” Then we heard the sound of sleigh bells, close at first then fading in the distance.
Quickly we went to the window and again only saw snow. We talked about the big man’s visit until we drifted off to sleep.
The next morning Christmas seemed even more magical, each gift a little dearer.
No one in our neighborhood had bells of any kind hanging anywhere. 
Now some 40-odd years later, my brother and I still share that Christmas Magic. We enjoy the holiday cheer a little more.  We hold family and friends a little more dear.  And, WE BELIEVE!
Johnson writes from North Wildwood.